


Begin Again

by sodamnrad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Draco Malfoy In Love, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Jealousy, Love, One Shot, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Protectiveness, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodamnrad/pseuds/sodamnrad
Summary: Draco Malfoy is sentenced to a 5 year ban from the Wizarding World. He moves to America, becomes a boxer and falls in love with a Muggle.This story is told in a series of snapshots.Draco's POV. One Shot.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 19





	Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hii! This is my first stab at a fan fiction so please be nice to me lol. I am a huge fan of the Draco + Hermione pairing but ultimately decided I'd prefer to write my own female character. (She is still very similar to Hermione). 
> 
> This is happening ~2000s but otherwise sticks to the original Harry Potter plot (minus the epilogue of course). 
> 
> I usually write original stories (on Wattpad) if you're interested please look me up @sodamnrad I would very much appreciate it
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one :)
> 
> x
> 
> S

“I’d like to sign up for a membership.”

“Sure, are you looking to utilize just the facilities or were you interested in a personal trainer?”

The receptionist is too soft-looking for a place like this. Her eyes practically swallow me as she waits for a response.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, “The second one.”

She releases a breath of laughter. “Alright, fill out this form for me. We’ll set you up.”

It’s strange being anonymous. This girl hasn’t the slightest clue that a few months ago I was fighting to kill people like her. I fill out a form with a pen, an oddity I am still getting used to. I am introduced to the owner of the boxing gym. The older man looks like he is made of steel and iron. He sees something he likes about me. His name is Steven. We begin.

* * *

Her name is Brooklyn. She works during the afternoons and keeps a textbook below her nose to fill the stagnant periods of her job. Some of the boxers call her Brookie. There isn’t one member at the gym that doesn’t smile at her like she makes their day. Except for me.

“Hi Draco.” She knows everybody by name.

“Hi.” I reply.

She watches me in amusement. There is never a shadow of judgement on her face. “Have a good session.” She always says that. Occasionally she says _enjoy_. As if punching things is pleasant. I suppose it could be.

* * *

Steven is a no-nonsense type of bloke. He reminds me of Father. He can tell when I’m not putting in my best effort, even when I think I am. He pushes me a little harder each time. Sometimes I scream in frustration but he likes it. I push on because a boxing gym is no battlefield and I’ve experienced worse. He likes my drive. 

The nightmares make me look harsh. There are dark half-moons beneath my eyes. Steven tells me I need to sleep more. Tells me about melatonin. I try it and it doesn’t do anything. Muggle medication is absolute crap.

* * *

A little boy in front of me begs his mum for a packet of sweets. She refuses. He begins to cry. “Oh, alright.” She gives in.

Wondering what the fuss is about, I toss a packet of the same sweets on the moving belt with the rest of my groceries. The girl behind the register looks sixteen and blushes when she sees me. I don’t smile.

Her eyes fall to my bruised knuckles. Instead of looking scared she becomes more embarrassed. I don’t understand Muggle women. I’m always bruised and tired-looking. There is nothing attractive about me anymore. Yet, they stare.

I try the sweets on the short walk home. It is called Pop Rocks and makes the oddest snapping sounds on my tongue. I wonder how something like this exists in the Muggle world. It feels like magic. The next time I go to the grocer’s I buy ten more.

* * *

“Open your hand.” I tell Brooklyn.

“Why?” She’s smiling. When I don’t respond she shows me her palm. I pour Pop Rocks into her hand. She looks. “Pop Rocks?” She giggles. “Are you five?”

My cheeks flame. Is it a children’s snack? “Uh…”

“I’m only teasing, Draco.” Her eyes are a deep, chestnut brown. She fills her mouth and I hear snapping sounds. For a second I’m envious of the Pop Rocks. “Is my tongue blue?” She shows me.

“Yes.”

“Bummer.” She doesn’t sound disappointed. “Enjoy your workout.”

* * *

Steven tells me I’ve improved faster than anyone he’s trained before. He wants me to consider competing in a few months. I tell him I’ll think about it. My time is split between my loft and the boxing gym. I could swing extra training sessions to compete.

I stay until the gym closes. Brooklyn is at her car when I am leaving. “Want a ride home?” She drives a small, blue car. It’s rare to see her without a counter obstructing half of her figure. She is slender and shorter than me by at least a foot.

“No, thanks.” The gym is walking distance to my apartment, that’s why I chose it. I leave wishing I lived further away.

* * *

Steven tells me it would help to look up videos of professional boxers online. I ask him what _online_ means and he looks at me oddly. As if I have tried to tell a joke and it hasn’t landed. On my way out of the gym I ask Brooklyn the same question. She furrows her brow and I wish I didn’t ask. But she says, “You need Internet and a computer to go online.”

“How do I get those things?”

“Well, you phone an Internet provider and they set it up at your house. And you can buy a computer at an electronic store. Try Apple.”

I have learned that a phone is a device with numbers that connects you to other Muggles, no matter how far you are. It’s quite handy. “How do I find this _Internet provider_?” He sounds like an ominous person you need to go on a quest to find.

Brooklyn seems to think I am teasing her the entire time but is too nice to tell me to go away. She jots a few numbers on a sticky, yellow paper and hands it to me. “Call this number and tell them you would like to set up Internet at your house. Where are you from, Draco?”

“London.” I reply easily.

“You don’t have Internet in London?” She sounds disbelieving. They must have Internet in London too. I am not entirely sure. She laughs at my baffled expression. “Were you raised in a family that didn’t believe in technology?”

Oh, if only she knew what type of family raised me. “You could say that.”

* * *

Muggles have moving stairs inside their establishments. They’re not like the moving staircases at Hogwarts. These remain in one place like the running devices at the gym, but are in constant motion. Always up or always down.

I prefer taking the regular stairs when they’re available. They aren’t always. I wonder why such lazy inventions exist. Muggles barely move as it is. I buy something called a laptop at a store with a bitten apple on the front. I don’t see how apples and these devices are related.

Somebody that calls himself a Genius teaches me how to operate the contraption. I learn quickly and wonder what is so genius about him. It looks like he hasn’t brushed his hair in weeks and there is a piece of spinach lodged between his teeth.

* * *

The internet has videos of people shagging. I spend an entire evening browsing the website, amazed at all the different categories that are available. Muggles are sick and I kind of like it.

* * *

Steven hosts a holiday party for his gym members. He has rented a local bar. Brooklyn shows up in long boots up to her knees, and a _dark green_ dress. Seeing her in my house colours feels like somebody has taken a pickaxe to my chest and created a fissure in the ice. It is also the first time I am seeing her hair down. She has the wildest curls I have ever seen, with the exception of Granger. 

The same boxers who call her Brookie surround her all night.

I take advantage of the open bar and what they call finger food. No fingers. Just miniature-sized fried things that these North Americans go crazy over. Moving stairs and oily snacks.

“Mac n Cheese balls are my favourite.” She appears beside me. A strand of her hair brushes my arm. I wish I were wearing a singlet. Her crimson lips take a bite of something that looks like a fried version of the golden snitch.

I reach for one and take a careful bite. It makes a satisfying crunch before my tongue is coated with cheesy pasta. I can see the appeal but wouldn’t go for a second.

Her tinkering laugh rises beside me. It’s familiar. She is always laughing at the gym. “Did you not like it?”

“It’s alright.” I shrug. “Not very distinguished for my palette.”

She is really laughing now. “Says the guy who eats Pop Rocks!”

I feel heat across my face. “Would you like to grab a drink?” I suggest, thinking I’m going to need alcohol if I want to talk to her without sounding like a bloody idiot. The Muggle world makes me feel unhinged.

* * *

I am ripping off the green dress. Her hands feel cold against my abdomen. The static leaves a few strands of hair standing erect. I laugh for a moment. It’s her turn to blush. The sight of her creates pins and needles in my chest. 

I taste the lips I gradually memorized over the everyday routine of my Muggle life. Small mouth, deep cupid’s bow and red, red lips that leave marks on my skin. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat and I lose all sense of self-control.

She rakes fingers through my hair. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” She tells me, uninhibited after enough glasses of _Vodka Cran_.

I am surprised by two things. That she has wanted me. And the way that makes me feel.

* * *

My sheets smell like her and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep alone in this bed again. She stayed the night and that perfect, round arse is pressed against my groin. I don’t recall a single dream.

I press kisses down her neck, hoping for another round. The sounds she makes. The way her eyes droop when I have her pinned below me. How her lips part and take a very, very long time to shut. The wildness of her curls across both our pillows. Twice last night she complained that I was yanking her hair. I hadn’t realized either time. It’s long and it’s everywhere and I can’t stop staring.

She stirs to life. The perpetual smile on her lips awakens. I want to bottle her happiness and store it in a jar. “Good morning.” The rasp in her voice makes me twitch.

Of all the Brookie boxers, she chose me. I fold her into my arms and take her slowly.

* * *

“-ress this button and shut the door.” A noise begins to whir. “And ta-da! That’s how your dishwasher works.” Brooklyn leans against the counter, watching me. Her hair is in a bun and she is wearing one of my t-shirts.

“You must think I am a total wanker.” I am unable to keep the self-consciousness from my voice.

She closes the gap between us and kisses me. “I’m glad I get to teach you about technology. It means you’ll keep me around a little while longer.”

I take a step back, “You’ll stay tonight?”

She has a handful of my shirt and is tugging. I smile against her lips.

* * *

One of the Brookie boxers is leaning against the counter and telling her a story that makes her laugh. His eyes light as if he’s a seeker and her laughter is the golden snitch. The punching bag flies when I swing again.

* * *

She lives in something called a studio apartment and it’s the size of a shoebox. I feel her eyes on me as I explore. The room is tidy and smells like her. She has photographs of herself with friends and family in frames. Muggle photographs don’t move but the ones she has chosen seem like they’re in motion. Candid and raw. She is lovely in every phase of life and I want to watch her change over time.

“I know it’s nowhere near as nice as your place…”

The insecurity in her voice makes me turn. She looks ashamed. Something has grabbed a hold of my throat and won’t release. I kiss her face, her nose, her eyes, the cupid’s bow that takes my breath away. I kiss her over and over until she is laughing. 

* * *

Steven trains me for competition. Boxing has helped me shed some volatile demons. In part due to the physicality and in part due to the girl behind the front desk.

The amount of focus that goes into boxing gives me purpose. I want to be the best at something again. When they took my wand from me it felt like castration. Steven has taught me that I can take back power with the sheer force of my body and mind.

I feel like I can depend on myself. I have never felt this way before.

* * *

“What are you going to do after school?” I wait while she packs a bag with overnight clothes. Her school bag is already on my shoulder. She studies political science at the local university.

“I want to take the LSAT and apply to law school.” She says, stuffing a sweater into an overflowing gym bag. She always overpacks. She usually ends up in one of my t-shirts. “How about you?”

“I’m not in school.” I straighten uncomfortably. She doesn’t know anything about my past. If Brooklyn found out that I fought in a war because I thought people like her were dirty…

I am ashamed. Where’s the speck of dirt in sunshine?

She rolls her eyes, “I know. But do you have any plans at all? Or once a Trust Fund baby always a Trust Fund baby?”

“Shut up.” I say, sharper than I intend. I made the mistake of telling her about my inheritance when she’d asked how I could afford my city-location loft. She teases me about it but I know there’s no malice. It’s her personality to poke fun. It’s one of the things I love about her. But this hits too close to home.

“Draco, I didn’t mean anything.” She seems upset. “It doesn’t matter to me that you’re rich. You know that, right?”

Of course I know that. The foolish girl went home with me even though I was the moodiest boxer at the gym and also the least forthcoming. Until she started to pry boards off windows and yank me open.

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.” I answer honestly. I considered these years of my life as transitionary. A waiting room to real life. I think I still do.

* * *

She wears a short skirt and matching top in a silky, red material. The shirt ties below her perfect tits and exposes too much skin. The thighs she’s self-conscious of are bare. Before we leave, she asks if I think she looks fat.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I reply honestly. I am tempted to lock her in the house and make love to her all night. Nobody needs to see the skin that only my fingers and lips are meant to touch.

Muggle dancing is absolutely filthy. It takes three tequila shots to convince me to join her on the dance floor. She has already introduced me to her school friends. A few Brookie boxers have showed up too. I feel awkward when she leaves me to socialize with her guests.

A red-headed woman runs a hand down my arm and asks if I want to dance with her. She reminds me of a Weasley and I have my mouth open to decline when a pair of arms hook around my waist from behind. “There you are, Draco.” She kisses me on the neck shamelessly.

I smirk. Her friends having been buying her birthday shots and she is already tipsy. She tells me the music is called rap and shows me how to hold her as we move. Our bodies press against one another, her back to my chest, her arse to my crotch. Our hips dip in a sensual rhythm that would cause a public scandal in the Wizarding World. She is all of my best Muggle firsts.

A Brookie boxer recognizes me and asks if I want to join him for a smoke outside. Brooklyn is occupied by school friends so I agree for the sake of something to do. I have never smoked a cigarette before but take one anyway. He lights it for me with a plastic device that makes a zinging noise and creates a single flame.

“Steve-O says you plan to compete. I hear you’re the one to watch of all the newbies.”

I hate the way Americans butcher names. “Yeah, I plan to compete.”

“Good luck, man. I’ll root for you.”

It is so easy for Muggles to form friendship without background information. As if social status and pedigree don’t matter. I think of Brooklyn and realize that they don’t always. I inhale from the cigarette and cough until my eyes water.

When we return inside, I look for her immediately. She stands at the edge of the dance floor. A stranger is talking to her. His eyes are sliding down her legs to the very tips of her strappy heels and climbing back up so slowly I want to snap his neck. I’m appeased that she doesn’t seem interested.

Another man walks behind her, catching the eye of the one speaking to her. They know one another and exchange a subtle nod and leer. He steps into her personal space and shoves a meaty paw up her skirt.

She turns in outrage and I don’t see the rest of her reaction because I am there and my fist has broken his nose.

Noise erupts around us. Glass breaks. Blood explodes onto my knuckles. I shove a second fist into his mouth. I take a blow to the gut. Dodge one aimed at my jaw. I am about to strike again but an invisible force has me by the back of the shirt. I am hauled outside. A beefy guard warns me to leave and not come back.

The edges of my vision are still black. 

I have just begun to storm down the street when I hear “Draco!” It takes her longer than it should to catch up. The death traps she calls shoes make urgent click-clacks on the floor. “Wait!” She has our coats in her arms. She hands me mine.

“Are you alright?” I demand, running my hands across her arms. Her pupils are blown wide and there’s a wideness to her eyes I recognize as shock. Her pretty, pretty lips are parted slightly.

She is in my arms and her face is buried in my shirt. The black ebbs from my vision and the tightness in my chest begins to ease.

* * *

We have the most mind-blowing birthday sex of her life. She tells me so. The alcohol has loosened her lips and hidden her sweet modesty. Tonight, she is a vixen, screaming my name over and over as I pleasure her with my tongue.

She becomes _vocal_. “Fuck, you don’t know what your hair does to me.” She moans. “Seeing it between my legs right now feels like a fantasy. You’re so beautiful, Draco Malfoy. Fuck. Oh. Mm.”

I bite her thigh. My teeth leave a red brand behind. I want to mark every inch of those sweet thighs and arse. She is mine. She is mine. There is no doubt in my mind that this woman is mine. She belongs to me.

* * *

I give her birthday present the next morning. She opens the box and her mouth falls agape. “W-what is this?”

“You told me your car was giving you trouble.” I wonder if I have done something wrong. “Isn’t it an old model or something?” I don’t know anything about Muggle cars.

“So you bought me an Audi?” She looks as if she is about to pass out.

I rush to her, placing my hands on her biceps. What have I done wrong? “I’m sorry, does that offend you? I was considering a Benz. I don’t really know much about cars but the man at the shop promised you’d like it…”

“I don’t understand you sometimes.” She gawks at me, but the expression on her face softens. “Draco, this is a very, very expensive gift.”

“It’s within my budget.” I assure her.

She rubs a hand against her temple, “I can’t accept this, Draco.”

“Why not?” There’s a sinking feeling in my chest. I thought it would make her happy. I researched the best types online and chose a colour I thought she’d like.

“People don’t buy cars for women they’ve been seeing for less than two months. It’s confusing.”

“I’m not people.” I am offended by the comparison. By now she should know I am no ordinary man. “And you’re not just some woman I’ve been seeing for less than two months.”

“What am I then?” She looks at me like she’s on a ledge and my answer has the weight to propel her forward.

I sink my fingers into her curls, curving my fingers around the back of her skull. Chestnut brown eyes that have too much power over me. She smells like herself and me and a blend of the both of us. I am hard again. “You’re mine.”

* * *

“Brake! Brake! Oh my God! It’s a red!” She’s screaming on the passenger side.

I pound my leg on the pedal and we dive into the middle of the intersection. Honks fly. I slam the second pedal and the car screeches to a halt.

“No, go! Go! Don’t stop in the middle of the intersection. Drive!”

I hit the first pedal again and veer into a parking lot. “I don’t want to do this.” I say firmly. “Just take the bloody car and shut up about it. I’m not going to kill us just to appease your conscience.”

She’s hiding a smile. She knows that I hate being bad at things. “You’ll learn.”

“I said I don’t want to.” My voice is firm.

“Alright.” She giggles.

“You’re laughing at me?”

“No!” She giggles again and then she’s laughing with tears in her eyes, “That was hilarious, Draco. Terrifying but hilarious. Thank you for the car you’re the most thoughtful person in the world.” She’s kissing my cheek across the seat and I am frozen by the impact of her words.

Nobody has called me thoughtful in my life.

* * *

She is the girl at the admissions table. She is wearing the green dress because I asked her to. Her hair is down because she knows.

I am thankful that Steven has hired a guard to stand with her. The energy is rowdy, there is too much testosterone, and Brooklyn is beautiful.

She stands by the door as I leave the changerooms, the crowd has been checked and the doors are locked. I steal a kiss, putting too much pressure behind it. “Wish me luck.”

The man I am fighting is muscle and fury and determination. But so am I.

Steven tells me to keep a straight head and to trust myself. Every muscle in my body grows taut and I enter with a cool sense of calm. I have been in the middle of a wizarding war. This match is mine.

I’m right.

* * *

I fuck her something fierce tonight.

* * *

She takes me hiking two hours from town. We listen to her music playlist and I am enthralled by her favourite songs. She sings along off-key but knows every word and something inside me swells. I didn’t possibly think there was more to like about this magnificent girl.

I hold her hand the entire drive, reluctant to let go even when she needs both to steer. I press a kiss to each knuckle and smell the sweetness of her skin below my nostrils.

I take her against a tree, and her moans echo across the cliff and into the atmosphere. I want to find a million new places to fuck her.

* * *

She asks me to proof-read her university essays. She is convinced my English is better than hers, because I am English, and thinks I’ll be able to catch mistakes. I am convinced I must be in love if I am willing to proof-read a 3000-word essay.

Reading her words shows me how her brain works. She is thorough with her research. She has a way with words. She is humane and speaks firmly on behalf of those who can’t stand up for themselves. I am reminded of the shame of my past and know she must never find out.

* * *

Mother complains that I don’t write enough. She demands to know about my life. I decide to play with fire and tell her I have a Muggle girlfriend. Her response surprises me.

_I am glad, son. You need a companion during these years of solitude._

What about after? I wonder but don’t push my luck.

* * *

I win three matches in a row.

Brooklyn bets money on me and makes a thousand dollars. She takes me on a trip to New York City and we fly on an airplane. I feel safer on a broom and wish I could tell her about it.

I see the city that she is named after. A hub of music, style and culture. I love it because she does.

* * *

She tells me her parents are teachers. She has a little brother who is still in high school. They live across the country. “What do your parents do?”

“My father is dead.” I say, coldly. Because being in Azkaban and being dead are the same thing. He will never see the walls of our home again. “And my mother is…” what do they call them here? “A stay-at-home wife.”

“An heiress?” She corrects, knowing too much about me without so many words. “Do you miss her?”

“Of course.” I tighten my grip around her waist, even though we are pressed entirely against one another. I distract her with kisses until her eyes roll back and she forgets everything except my tongue and the ripples of pleasure between her legs.

* * *

I arrive in a panic at the Emergency Room. The sight of bruises across her forehead, temple and cheek makes me blind with rage. I am glass and shatter into a thousand pieces the moment her shaking hand wraps around my wrist. “You’re here.”

I lift her chin, brushing the softest of fingers against the damage and she still winces. My insides twist in the thickest of pain. “What happened?”

“I was walking home and someone attacked me.” She looks away, remembering. “He wanted my bag and I tried to fight but he punched me a few times and – well, I woke up on the sidewalk and some lady was above me calling 911 and they brought me here and now I’m in line to see a doctor to check if I have a concussion.”

My teeth are clenched so tight I might grind them to dust. My poor girl. She was in trouble and she needed me and I wasn’t there.

I wait with her for hours. It gives me too much time to seethe. I am angry with her and am forcing myself to contain it. At least until I know she’s alright.

* * *

“The hell I will!”

“You practically got yourself killed!”

“It’s a minor concussion, where’s the death?”

“It could’ve been worse. Why are you so stubborn, woman?”

“I will _not_ live my life in fear.”

I punch a wall and it leaves a gaping hole.

“DRACO!” She is horrified. “My landlord is going to _kill_ me. What the fuck, you psycho!” She begins to mumble to herself in a low voice. Something about dating boxers.

“Leave, Draco. I can’t handle this right now.”

* * *

She hasn’t spoken to me in a week. Dark clouds have blocked my sun and have turned my skin pale and clammy.

* * *

I open the door to her face. I haven’t seen her since the hole in the wall. Steven made her take off time to recover. I recognize that look immediately. There’s angry Brooklyn, happy Brooklyn, horny Brooklyn, sleepy Brooklyn and right now I’m looking at stubborn Brooklyn.

“Why haven’t you tried to call me?” She demands, pushing me aside and marching into the apartment. “You were supposed to be groveling and apologizing for yelling at me after a concussion and creating a massive hole in my wall. Don’t you care?”

I am frozen. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me.” My voice is low but she hears anyway.

“I didn’t.” She replies, firmly. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want you to try.”

I sigh, deeply. I’ve prepared for this. I can’t date a Muggle. I shouldn’t have tried in the first place. “Brooklyn, we need to break up.” The words feel like the biggest self-sabotage since taking the Dark Mark.

“The hell we do!” She explodes. “What the _fuck_ is your problem, Draco Malfoy? How dare you treat me this way.”

Our fights always have this _Bombarda_ quality to them. “You don’t _know_ anything, Brooke.” I reply. “If you knew my past, you’d never look at me the same way.”

“That’s impossible.” She is in front of me, hands on my arms. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done before. I know you now and that’s all that matters.”

I pull away. “No, it doesn’t! You don’t know _anything_. Every horrible thing you can imagine, make it worse.”

“I hear you at night.” She says gently. “You talk in your sleep sometimes.”

My lungs are empty, hollow things.

“You mutter things like _dark lord_ and _can’t kill him_ and you say _father_ a lot. Was he abusive, Draco? Did he make you do things you didn’t want to do?” She is looking at me like she wants to wrap me in a blanket and extract the darkness from my soul.

“Get out.” I am barely holding it together. I will hurt her if she doesn’t leave. “Get _the fuck_ out, Brooklyn. We’re done.”

* * *

I earn a reputation at the boxing ring. They call me _Black Ice_ because I am frost and ruthlessness and they don’t see me coming. On the outside I am iron and steel and fury, on the inside I am a cave of shadows.

* * *

The Brookie boxers are obsessed with her again. She eggs it on, keeping them by her station longer to chat and flirt. I don’t know if she’s always this way or only when she knows I’m watching. I considered moving away but this gym and Steven have become everything to me.

It is the first thing that has ever been mine alone.

Well, maybe not the first thing…

Brooklyn keeps her hair up every day again. It doesn’t stop my fingers from twitching whenever I pass.

* * *

I lose a fight. Badly.

Blood pours from splits in my lip, my eyebrow and across my nose, my vision wavers constantly, and bruises run so deep I can’t breathe without wincing. If I weren’t banned from the Wizarding World I’d be treated and cured in less than a day. Here, I must endure.

* * *

I receive a package the next day. _Be well_. Is all the note says and the package is filled to the brim with Pop Rocks.

* * *

I miss her. I miss her. I miss her so badly it hurts.

* * *

I wonder how it’s anybody’s business who I choose to love. The audacity of the people on my family tree and beyond. If they spent half the time working on themselves instead of judging other people’s choices the Wizarding World would be a better place.

How have I not realized this before? The prejudice is a poison that has seeped inside me my entire life. How could _anybody_ look at her and think she is dirty or toxic or wrong? She filled me with clear skies and sun when everyone else forced a hurricane.

Nobody will tell me how to live my life anymore.

* * *

“Hi.”

“Hi?”

“Are you still cross with me?”

“You broke up with me.”

“Are you cross?”

“What do you think?”

“Is it beyond forgiveness?”

“That depends. Are you through being an idiotic son of a bitch?”

I smile.

* * *

The sounds she makes beneath me are a symphony of light. The lines she tears through my skin are the toll to my happiness. The press of her deep cupid’s bow mouth against my naked skin is salvation.

* * *

I trace a lazy finger across her chest after. “My father did force me to do things I didn’t want to do… only, at the time I thought I did.”

“Is that why you ran from London?”

“I didn’t run. I was kicked out.”

“From home?”

“It’s not home anymore.”

* * *

She takes me to a place Muggles call _The Movies_. I think I like it at first but the sound of explosions and screaming triggers something that I haven’t felt since the final battle at Hogwarts.

She is outside of the men’s room when I finally emerge. Huge chestnut eyes scanning my figure with a concern I didn’t know she held for me. “Draco, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here, I didn’t realize-”

She’s in my arms, and the scent of her hair is filling my senses and the coldness inside of me zings with the spark of a single flame.

* * *

Her new project has become teaching me how to cook. Not that she’s much of a cook, herself. But she doesn’t burn everything she touches and seems to think that makes her qualified.

I realize it’s not much different than brewing potions. It takes two weeks before I’m better than her. She is both irritated and bursting with pride.

* * *

I receive letters from Mother, Blaise, Theo and Pansy for my birthday. I am reminded of the circles I once kept. They all mention how they look forward to my return. Nearly four more years until I get my wand back. 

Brooklyn takes me away for the weekend. A beach and a small house with windows, overlooking the ocean. Champagne and sand and a blow job that wipes my memory clean. A birthday cake I eat off her.

“I love you.” She tells me between sheets and kisses. “I love you so much, Draco.”

* * *

Steven is angry with me. I insisted on fighting a boxer whose ranking was leaps and bounds above my own. I became too cocky, he tells me. I let the crowd’s confidence cloud my judgement. He suspends me from the gym for two months. I have cracked two ribs and can’t practice anyway.

* * *

Brooklyn hasn’t been to her studio apartment in weeks. She barely leaves my side unless it is to go to work or school. Her clothes are in my closet. Her toothbrush in my bathroom. Her makeup things scattered across my dresser. Two towels hang behind the bathroom door. Her favourite snacks fill my pantry.

“Move in with me and stop wasting your money on that shoebox.” I kiss her over and over. “You practically live here anyway.”

She is stunned, frozen on my lap for a few seconds of silence. I freeze in turn. My body is in tune with hers like she is an extension of myself. It is a realization that has dawned on me over time. If she twitches in bed, I wake up. If she hurts herself, I feel pain. If she is sad, my throat swells. 

Nobody has ever wielded this power over me. It feels like an Imperius curse I have cast on myself and the thought of severing it is unfathomable. “Are you sure?” Her voice is small. I wonder if I have wedged this sliver of insecurity between us because I haven’t told her I love her back.

“Move in with me.” I repeat without a flicker of hesitation. Telling her I love her feels too permanent. When I go back to the Wizarding World, I will hurt her. Maybe it will hurt less if she never hears me say it.

* * *

She gives me the type of Muggle summer I have seen on television.

A visit to the carnival where I smash a hammer and win her a gigantic, stuffed animal. She chooses the dragon.

A road trip across the country where we get lost twice and sleep at seedy motels that make her cringe. My Brooklyn is a clean-freak and I am usually glad for it. Not when she refuses to shag me in the shower, worried she’ll catch a disease against the _nasty_ tiles.

A visit to her parents that are too nice to me. A little brother that teaches me how to play a video game where I am a mustached man in a red hat riding a little red car. He asks if I really am the Black Ice in the ring that they call me. He has looked me up online. I teach him a few moves. I have never had a younger brother before but Brooklyn makes me feel as if her family is mine.

Skinny dipping in a lake that chills us to the bone and makes my heart pound so hard it might burst and sink to the very bottom of the water.

A sunburn on my back that she soothes with something called Aloe Vera. Her skin has become a delicious light brown. I have more trouble keeping my hands off her than usual.

She buys me an extra-large bottle of something called Sunscreen and warns me that if I don’t put it on every day, I will get premature wrinkles and sagging skin. She knows exactly what to say to get me to listen. I am reminded how much this Muggle girl knows me without knowing me at all.

* * *

Days blend into weeks that form months that shake the darkness from my soul and the horror from my lips. She tells me I don’t talk in my sleep anymore or if I do I say things like _sunburn_ or _see you in the ring_ or _Brooklyn_ over and over.

Mother occasionally asks how my Muggle girlfriend is doing but hasn’t bothered to learn her name.

* * *

“Why did you get this tattoo?” She asks one day, tracing the shape of the snake with her index finger. I pull my arm away, disturbed that the brightest thing in my life is touching the darkest.

“It’s a reminder,” I tell her, without looking at her face, “of who I’m not anymore.”

Her dainty fingers work the kinks out of my back and shoulders. We make slow, sweet love.

* * *

I tell her about Hogwarts but leave out the parts about magic. I tell her about the different houses and how I was placed in the most notorious of them all. I tell her about my friends and my enemies.

“Who was your first real crush?” She asks with a smile in her voice.

I am twisting one of her curls around my finger, the rest of her mane is scattered across my chest and the sheets. “The real one? She was a little like you and I was terrible to her.”

“Tell me.”

“She was brilliant. The brightest girl in the whole school. She was in the rival house to mine and had the wildest hair imaginable.” I chuckle, taking a deep sniff of Brooklyn’s similar curls.

I remember Granger writhing in pain in the centre of my drawing room and I tense. She’ll never know that I nearly collapsed that day. That I nearly blew it all for her. Looking at Brooklyn now, I feel something fierce and my arm tightens around her naked waist.

“What happened?” The question is whispered across a single breath.

“I did what I do best.” To save my own skin. To fulfill a destiny I never wanted. To make my father proud. “I turned the other way.”

She turns in my arms. “Were you together?”

I laugh because it is the most ridiculous thought. “Of course not. She fell in love with her best friend. I told you she was brilliant.”

Brooklyn’s body relaxes, “Everyone should fall in love with their best friend.”

I silently agree.

* * *

I have started to travel for matches. Steven accompanies me as my coach and takes care of all the paperwork. Brooklyn can rarely come but I fly her out even if it’s for one night.

Muggle women in scanty clothing brush against me as if my purpose is to be groped and grabbed. They look at me as if they’re doing me a favour. I shrug them off and toss envelopes with room cards into the trash.

The amount of trust Brooklyn has in me is staggering. If our roles were reversed, I would pummel any man that attempted to touch her. As it stands, she is possessive when she is present. Always a kiss before the match and a kiss after. A shadow that emerges when I need the comfort and slips once more to the background because she knows I have to focus. But knowing she is there is enough.

When she isn’t, there is never a glimmer of uncertainty over the phone. She knows I am traveling to fight and will come home to her as soon as I can. Nobody has ever trusted me. Another first that is mine and hers alone.

* * *

She ends every phone call with “I love you, Draco” and never expects it back. I suspect she knows.

* * *

She receives a fat package in the mail one day. She has been receiving many of these the last couple of months but this one is different. After completing her university program, she spent a year to study and take the LSATs and applied to a variety of law schools across the country.

She reads the letter and bursts into tears.

I am falling onto my knees in front of her. None of the other packages caused such a stir.

“I-I made it.” She sniffles, looking at me through wet lashes. “I got accepted to Harvard.”

I have her in my arms and am raining kisses over her skin. “My brilliant girl. Of course, you did. Of course.” Before Brooklyn, I hadn’t the slightest clue what Harvard was. We visited campus once and it reminded me of an American Hogwarts. And I wanted it for her. She deserves to study at a school that makes her starry-eyed and speechless. 

“I can’t go.”

“What do you mean?” I draw back, astounded.

“I didn’t get a scholarship.” She is nibbling her lower lip so hard I am certain she will draw blood. “I can’t afford it.”

* * *

The five years I spend with Brooklyn are the happiest of my life. My days begin and end with her. She is my safe place. She is my sun. She is my moon and all my stars. I am in too deep and when an owl bursts into my living room and makes her scream, I know that the darkness has returned to haunt me.

“What the hell!” She watches the owl fly a circle in the room and disappear. “What was that?”

I lift the envelope from my lap. It is addressed to me from the Ministry of Magic. I don’t need to open it to know my sentence is over and I am allowed to return home. Even if the Wizarding World hasn’t been home in years.

* * *

She comes home one afternoon with a paper bag full of groceries, and barely notices me on the couch as she begins to talk. “Sorry I’m late. They didn’t have the pasta you like, so I had to go to the other store across town. We can start dinner now-” She falters to a stop when she sees the trunks. “Draco? Is there a match I didn’t know about?”

I stand, walking to her and pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I have to tell you something.”

I am uncertain if she believes me. But I am a leaky faucet that has been twisted open and it all pours out. I’m a wizard. I come from a family of pureblood elitists that don’t believe people like her are worth the dirt beneath their shoes. I was banned from using magic but my sentence has finally lifted. My father isn’t dead, he’s in prison for life. My mother is under house-arrest at our manor where we tortured the girl I had a crush on. My tattoo is a dark mark that pledged allegiance to the most horrible man who ever existed in the Wizarding World. My parents were two of his biggest supporters. I am going back home and she can’t come with me.

“Brooklyn, listen to me.” My voice changes to led and determination. She is pale and frightened and for once I can’t tell what she’s thinking. “I have opened a bank account under your name. It will cover tuition for Harvard. Use it, please.” It is the least I can do for the girl that saved my life. From what she tells me, an education from Harvard will set her for the rest of her life. She will be alright. She will be brilliant. She will do good for the world in all the ways I couldn’t. “The loft is in your name too. Stay here until you move to Boston. Keep it or sell it after. I’m sorry, Brooklyn. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Holding my wand again feels like a gaping hole in my soul has been filled. I would’ve been whole again if the rest of me hadn’t shattered.

* * *

Mother has planned the rest of my life. I will take over Malfoy holdings. I will marry one of the Greengrass girls. I will show my face proudly at every public event because there is nothing to be ashamed of anymore. I have served my sentence and am free.

She is shocked by my frame. She has never seen so much muscle on any wizard in our world. She doesn’t consider half-breeds wizards.

I want to tell her that I am not free. That I have only just been imprisoned.

* * *

I am reunited with old friends and forced to see old acquaintances. Astoria Greengrass has straight hair, is polite and most important of all, comes from a pureblood family. Taking her to lunch feels wrong. Like I am betraying my own heart.

* * *

I wake from nightmares with Brooklyn’s name on my lips. I see her thrashing on the floor of my house as my relatives take turns making her bleed. Then spit on her blood claiming it’s dirty and disgusting.

I am frozen as I realize I have failed again.

* * *

Mother asks me to join her for breakfast. There is a jewelry box sitting in front of my place setting. I don’t open it.

“For when you are ready to propose.” She says behind her teacup.

Once again, I am immobile in a life that I didn’t choose for myself. But it’s worse this time. I turned my back on the life I did build.

“Her name is Brooklyn.” I don’t know why I tell her. Maybe because I was with her for five years and Mother never asked. She thought of her as a temporary band-aid to a wound she’d mend once I returned.

But she hasn’t mended the wound. She has ripped the stitches apart and is leaving me to bleed.

“How American.”

“I’m in love with her.”

The teacup clatters against the saucer.

I wait because I want to know how she intends to mend this.

“Love is a fickle thing, Draco. Family, power and legacy are the things we must esteem. Without it we are nothing.”

“You’re wrong.” I say and hear her inhale a sharp breath. “I have become nothing but I used to have everything.”

She misunderstands me. “I know, son. But we are building it back and you will have it all again.”

“I’m going back to America, Mother.” I stand, leaving the unopened jewelry box on the table between us. “I don’t intend to return.”

* * *

Her hair is up, the sun is caressing the curve of her cheek and she is highlighting something in a dense textbook. Papers and pens are scattered on the picnic table. Her study space is in constant disarray no matter how tidy she is otherwise.

I take a seat across from her and she looks up at the shadow I cast. She sucks in a sharp breath. Her chestnut eyes become two full moons. I brace myself for the _Bombardo_ but it doesn’t come. We are surrounded by a silence of words.

I speak first. “Harvard becomes you.”

Her brow furrows. She looks me up and down to where the table cuts off at my belly. “Can’t say home does the same for you.”

“It wasn’t home.” I reach for her hand across the table but she pulls away. I try not to wince.

“What are you doing here, Draco?”

“What do you think?”

She becomes angry. “What do I think? What do I THINK?” She slams her hands against the table. “I THINK you’re a fucking coward! I THINK you’re the worst piece of shit I’ve ever met. I THINK I hate you.”

But she doesn’t say she thinks I’m a liar. Or insane. “You believe me?” I don’t have to expand on the question.

“I looked it up.” Of course, she did. “I found next to nothing. But one of my classmates is the grandson of a diplomat and he snuck me into his office. I found documents about your Ministry of Magic and this so-called Wizarding War. Your family’s disgusting. You’re practically Nazis. I can’t believe I ever…” Her voice breaks. “You made me fall in love with you.”

“I’m sorry.” I am ashamed. She has put on a pair of boxing gloves and has pounded them into the heart that only ever beat for her. Even when I decided it wasn’t enough. “Can you see why I left? Do you understand?”

“No.” She looks away. “I don’t understand. You told me you were different from the things your father made you do. That you changed. But after everything… after all we went through you still went back. You broke my heart and you left me.”

“I broke my own heart too.” I tell her. It dawns on me that I have lost her. The way she looks at me now. There is no coming back from that. “I know I realized too late and the damage is done. I thought maybe we could’ve…” I shake my head, dropping it. “I’m sorry I came.”

“Maybe we could’ve what?” She is looking away, but I recognize that look. When she realizes she was wrong about something and doesn’t want to admit it.

Hope flickers. “I came back for you. I thought I could grovel and beg and you’d listen. But now you know who I was and where I came from and of course that could never happen. It was stupid of me to think it could.”

“You still want me?”

“I never stopped. Brooklyn, I know I never told you but I’m in love with you.”

She looks at me again. “What good will your love do? I’ll never belong in your world.”

“You _are_ my world.” I correct her. “I don’t want any part in a place that may think you’re not good enough. I miss the life we built together. It’s the only life I want.”

“Say it again.”

“Say what?”

She cocks a brow and shoots me a look I recognize too well. Different shades of Brooklyn and I know every one.

“I love you.”

She reaches for my hand across the table.

We begin again.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING :)
> 
> WATTPAD: @sodamnrad


End file.
